Chapter 42:
Sensing her distress, perhaps about their impending divorce, Kristian suggested, “Now that we’re both awake, why don’t we talk?”
“No,” she replied curtly, her voice firm.
All she wanted was a sip of water before crashing back into bed; exhaustion weighed her down. “I’m heading upstairs to get some more sleep.”
As she turned to leave, Kristian reached out swiftly, capturing her hand in his. He gently relieved her of the glass and guided her toward the dining table.
With a puzzled frown, Freya sat down as he placed the glass before her, his elegant fingers lingering momentarily on the tabletop. His deep, resonant voice broke the silence again. “Why are you up?”
Freya took a deliberate sip of water, her eyes avoiding his probing gaze, leaving his question hanging in the air, unanswered.
“Does this have something to do with the divorce tomorrow?” Kristian pressed on.
Freya paused mid-sip, a furrow of confusion knitting her brows as she tried to grasp his sudden question.
“When I asked you to marry me, it was real—I wanted to build a life with you,” Kristian admitted, breaking the silence that had stretched between them.
His gaze, usually distant and unattached upon waking, was now intense and focused solely on her. “I honestly wanted forever with you. I just never anticipated that Ashley had her own hidden motives for leaving.”
Setting down her now-empty glass with a soft clink, Freya’s voice carried a note of cool detachment. “Yes, I know.”
Before Ashley’s unsettling phone call, Kristian had been nothing short of considerate. He had honored Freya’s desire to avoid a lavish wedding and the scrutiny of a public announcement, seamlessly handling the intricacies of their quiet union.
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He had always found ways to uplift her, ensuring she never felt overshadowed by the glaring differences in their social standings.
Freya had been convinced she’d made the right choice in him.
But Ashley’s call had shattered her happy life.
“Freya.” Kristian’s voice softened, a familiar warmth weaving through his words as he spoke her name.
She didn’t challenge him, her thoughts perhaps wandering to dreams of her mother, lost in the nostalgia of their earlier days, or maybe it was just the late hour clouding her judgment.
She responded instinctively, her tone laden with the weight of unspoken thoughts, “Hmm?”
“I apologize.” The words were simple, but Kristian felt each one acutely, as if the very sight of her tears was a knife twisting in his heart.
Freya’s eyes met Kristian’s as she muttered three words, “I accept it.”
Kristian’s heart sank, a void opening within him as the stark reality settled.
Her words, so clinical and detached, brought a resurgence of profound loss that he thought he had managed to keep at bay.
“Once the divorce is final, I hope we can go back to being strangers,” Freya went on, her gaze unwavering. “Even if fate throws us together, let’s just pass by like we’ve never known each other.”
As she spoke, her mind wandered to the future of the company she was bound to inherit.
.
.
.